


every summer night, i lost myself a little more

by SNES



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Coming Out, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SNES/pseuds/SNES
Summary: "Jeno, I have something to admit to you.""I'm listening." Jeno says, chalky hands playing idly with Jaemin's numbing fingers. Jaemin likes how his palms feel warm, how his touch feels like the closest thing he can have to comfort, to home.****In the midst of the most disastrous night he's ever lived long enough to face, Jaemin comes out to Jeno and gets the healing after the hurting.





	every summer night, i lost myself a little more

**Author's Note:**

> predominantly a moodpiece. heed the tags and if you find them triggering then i dont encourage you to read, please
> 
> @RETROJENS on twt :^)

It gets harder and harder to breathe.

He's not holding his breath in; the air just feels like he's snorting fucking bleach into his nose, like he's letting it burn down his throat. Everything _hurts_. It just starts to feel like he's brain-dead at this point. Eyes blurry with tears he can't shed, blood running down his cheeks, movements slow, barely anything that it was almost like he was _p_ _laying dead_. He can't possibly be worth anything in that moment. And he deserves to feel like absolute shit.  No one, not a single thing; not the online support forums, not the countless words of encouragement, not even the books in the self-help section of the library could possibly help him now.

Why he was walking with wobbly, unstable legs to Jeno's front porch in the middle of the evening without any shoes or socks on could be anyone's wild guess, but if he needed to be specific: his father beat the shit out of him. The reason? He's gay, in whatever sense of the word it had to be. He liked dick, liked _men._ And maybe he didn't deserve all of the shit he's getting, but for fuck's sake, he knew he was an absolute idiot if he didn't see this coming. 

Coming out _sucks._

Earlier on in the night he would have never expected things to take such a massive 180. But now he was here, very nearly on the brink of giving in to what could only be defined as the intersection of complete insanity and _probably_  something akin to death. But that's not what he ought to do.

What he ought to do was kill himself; jump off the highest building in their god-forsaken asshole town or fake an ID and walk all the way to the gun shop near the liquor store and buy himself the cheapest gun he could find. But who is he kidding? If he shoots himself, it would be stretching the possibilities too damn far, but it was less unattainable than just practically disappearing into thin air... or just not being _gay_ at all, which was, to be honest, exactly what he wanted to happen to him right now.

His bare feet tap on cold asphalt, the sidewalk like chilly ice shards on the peeling skin on the heels of his feet. His destination is clear in mind. _Turn left, faggot_. He shakes his head and turns left. _Walk straight to the blue gate, fag. Then cross the motherfucking road._ He stops in his tracks and pinches himself a little, mentally cursing. He didn't need to recall _that word_ anymore, didn't need to fucking hear it more than he already had in the whole span of the night, more than he would for the rest of his cursed lifetime, but it's there in his mind, in him. It _is_ him, and he hates how he's never felt so out of place in his own body until now, hates how it feels like he's got it written all across his forehead like it's a label he can't remove unless he scrapes all the skin on his face off. That didn't sound like too much of a bad idea now, to be honest.

When he reaches Jeno's home, he rings the doorbell, the familiar ding resounding from within the living room. In less than five seconds the door swishes open, with Jeno peeking from the small open gap. Jaemin's gaze flies down, to the popcorn bowl wrapped around Jeno's arms, to Jeno's feet that were snugly clad in black fluffy cat-themed slippers. Jeno spots Jaemin in all his bare-footed glory and immediately sprints down the curb in panic.

"What happened to your cheek?!" is the first thing he asks, his hand now on Jaemin's shoulder. He looks at the bruise, gleaming red under the pole light near their front gate. It's even bleeding a little. Jeno can't stomach the sight of it and looks away. "Who did it?"

"Can I come inside?" He peeks up from where he was, their eyes meeting. Gloom mingles with worry. 

"Yeah," he nods. "Yes. Of course you can. Mom and dad are in the living room, but I mean- we could just..."

"Your room." Jaemin mutters quietly, not wanting to spare a second more when he walks past Jeno and to their front door, up to the stairs and straight through the hallway on the right, where Jeno's room was. Jeno follows protectively after him, eyes completely hammered on his movements. Jaemin walks all the way there, hands propped on the wall beside him, shaky footsteps that hardly made a sound. It anguishes Jeno way too much. 

They sit across one another on the bed, the acuteness of their proximity cutting Jaemin's labored breathing even shorter. Not too long after, Jeno grabs one of his used hoodies from the floor and holds it out for Jaemin to use. He takes it in his hand.

"I'm getting blood on this." Jaemin says, cheeks now pressed against the fabric of Jeno's hoodie, sapping warmth.

"No worries." Jeno shrugs, hands rummaging through the first-aid kit on his bedside drawer for bandages. He fishes out a whole strip of pastel-colored bandages and plops it beside him on the bed. He looks around the room, the consciousness of starting up an inevitably awkward conversation weighing him down. He breathes deep before speaking again. "Care to tell me what in the world happened?"

"I fucked up, Jeno." He starts. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't know what got into me when I-" _he can't say it._ "-when I did what I did. So dad- he-"

"Your dad?!" He double-takes. "What got into him?" 

"What got to him wasn't his fault." Jaemin seethes. "He wasn't wrong for beating me. I'm just not what he wants me to be."

Jeno's eyes narrow. "That's bullshit. You couldn't have fucked up _that_ bad." But he _did_.  That was the motherfucking point. He fucked up something about himself he isn't even sure he has control over. Fucked up by hiding it for so damn long. He fucked it up by existing and the worst thing about it all was that he thought something was wrong with him when he knows there isn't; when he knows there shouldn't be.

He knows he spent half his life trying and keeping his shit together; spent a significant amount of his existence battling all the hardships, exerting all the goddamn effort, supplying all the self-reassurances, praying to God or whoever was out there, constantly, desperately hoping he would wake up knowing it'll finally be okay someday, sooner or fucking later. And then it all goes to shit. And then everything starts falling apart anyway.

Jeno clutches Jaemin's hand, threading their fingers together as they mingle there in shared silence. Cold meets warm. They're focused on this for a while, caught up in their own little bubble; it's where Jaemin can forget about the rest of the world without it coming at anybody's expense. Jeno ghosts his thumb over Jaemin's quivering knuckles, touch clicking him back to life in small gradual quantities.

He realizes that this was it. This was _falling apart anyway._  

But he doesn't know why it starts to feel sort of calming, relieving, even wonderful but slightly nerve-wracking in a sense, in some oddly surreal way. Maybe because it was Jeno who was catching him, Jeno letting him crash against his arms, Jeno gripping him tight against all the shattering cracks on his body, Jeno holding him together by all the breaking pieces,  _Jeno_. For now, Jaemin feels like letting it all go, except he couldn't leave it at that. He still had to tell Jeno what the hell went down, and he couldn't start that conversation without admitting something else to Jeno first; that _something else_  being his worst fear. It feels hard having to do it again. 

"Jeno," he mumbles, voice barely audible in his anxiety. "I have something to admit to you."

"I'm listening." Jeno says, chalky hands playing idly with Jaemin's numbing fingers. Jaemin likes how his palms feel warm, how his touch feels like the closest thing he can have to comfort, to home. Without much thought, he remembers something he read; not quite sure where. _HOME ISN'T A HOUSE_ , his mind unconsciously supplies in convenient all-caps, _A HOUSE IS NO MORE THAN WOOD, THAN NAILS AND IMPERMANENCE AND DECAY. MAYBE HOME IS A PERSON._

And to Jaemin, that person has always been Jeno.

"Jeno," he gulps, feeling the pressure heave him down, saliva thickening in his throat, hand gripping tighter. "I figured I needed to tell you this sooner or later, or else I'd just feel like I'm taking advantage of the fact that you're quite literally the only thing I have right now, but-" he pauses, looks for the right words, courage shifting. He knows he can't delay this now. A little more of staying in hiding and he might actually kill himself from all the self-loathe, and the thought of that terrifies him; knowing he can't die and expect everything he left behind to suddenly be better. Knowing he can't die  _happy_. 

"You know that whatever it is I'll still be here for you, right?" He chuckles gravely, shakily. "Unless you killed someone."

"I didn't kill someone," he coughs a little, tears now pooling on the rims of his eyes, his lungs contracting even more. "...But I _am_ gay..." 

" _Oh_." Jeno's mouth falls open, the rest of his response hindered. "Um. Okay. Uh. _Wow_." 

Jeno stays still for a moment, breath hitching, then he nods. Nods and nods and squeezes Jaemin's hand as tight as he could. A reassuring smile creeps through his face, and maybe that could be enough. He doesn't know what's in Jeno's head in that moment, doesn't know what he could possibly be thinking. For all he knows, Jeno could be _disgusted_ by him, and maybe that's the greatest it can get. At least he's not getting a beating for it now.

"I'm sorry I didn't-" he stops and lets himself break down then, like a dam taking up an amount of water twice its own size; his deterioration inevitable. There's nothing else he wants to say. His mind is too worn out to come up with anything else. "Sorry. I can't- I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry, Jeno."

"Say it again." Jaemin looks at Jeno from under his tear-stained lashes, feeling his lips tremble. Did he hear that right?

He blinks in disbelief, his eyesight still somewhat blurry. "What?"

"I want you to say it to me again." He squeezes Jaemin's hand one more time in knowing, his gaze strong and unfazed.

Jaemin slowly feels like he gets it now, and although he can't see where this is going, he wants to trust Jeno. "I-I'm gay."

"Again." Jeno replies firmly, his voice grounding Jaemin back to the surface of reality.

"I'm gay." 

"Again." He utters another time through now-gritted teeth. 

"I'm gay." He says while the tears flow out faster. It rolls off his tongue over and over, one after the other coming with less restraint, with more ease, more confidence. "I'm gay, Jeno."

" _Say it._ Say it over and over until it's okay. Until it feels right. Until you start to feel like you haven't fucked anything up." He urges despite the strain in his throat, and when Jaemin looks back at him he sees tears on the corners of his eyes, glinting under the overhead light. "Until you know you're safe with me."

"I'm gay." He repeats, one last time for all it's worth. Then Jeno smiles back at him again, heart on his sleeves. 

"You're gay. And I love you." It's one of those moments where words are suddenly enough. Jeno pulls him into a hug, tight and compulsive and breathless and suddenly the only thing that feels right. He leans into it.

It hims him then; the wave of sudden relief that comes crashing down on him like an avalanche. It feels like fresh air. Like the recovery after the disaster. Like warm tea on a cold day, like waking up to a bed of his favorite stuffed toys after a whole night of stress, like being with Jeno, like Jeno, like every _single fucking_  thing that makes his shitty life worth living.

He grins to himself, and even though the tears don't stop and he's still certainly strought and completely devastated, he looks at Jeno once and wonders why he ever thought he needed fixing.

When he eases into Jeno's arms, he sighs, feeling his sinuses thaw and the pain in his chest dissipating a little. It's dark out, quiet, sort of dreamlike. There's nothing else he can hear but the sound of his steadying heartbeat.

Things aren't okay, but at least he can finally, _finally,_ breathe again.

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this in the midst of confirming my sexuality subsequently after being outed to some important people in my life... except the thing is, fate wasnt by my side and that didnt go well at all lmao.
> 
> its true; we arent all blessed with accepting people. i mean ngl it feels like shit, but im not god and i cant turn shit back yknow?? the least i could do for myself is be proud, but that might take me a long time jdnjfhd. yeah it sucks to come out to homophobes ive spent nearly a quarter of my life with but writing this was cathartic and helped me battle out the negativity that came from that experience..
> 
> comments are highly appreciated at this point and it'd really be amazing if you would leave a few words of encouragement on this for the meantime. they would mean the absolute world to me right now. 
> 
> and to anyone who needs to hear it right now, just to reassure themselves: you're gay and you are loved. ♡ always remember that.


End file.
